


How John doesn't deal with jealousy

by kirakira_nanoda



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alley Sex, Angry Sex, Jealous!John, M/M, Rough Sex, all the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakira_nanoda/pseuds/kirakira_nanoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is on a case, which is good, it’s all fine. They both agreed this was the only way Sherlock could get the information and John thought he would be able to contain his jealousy while Sherlock smoozed up to the female suspect. That is until Sherlock places his hand on that woman’s thigh and starts whispering sinful things in her ear then there’s no stopping John from needing to reclaim what is his…</p>
            </blockquote>





	How John doesn't deal with jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Written with 'How Sherlock deals with jealousy' in mind ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/386978). There are a few lines that reference the first story but otherwise it can be read as unrelated.

_Breathe, John_.

 

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

  _It’s for a case._

 

He picked up his half empty pint glass, gulping down the rest of the contents before immediately ordering another.

 

_You knew this was what was going to happen, you discussed it with him._

 

He tore his eyes off Sherlock only for a second to find his wallet, deliberately ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking as he handed over the £10 note.

 

  _He needs information._

 

The barman handed over the pint and his change, John picking up the glass and immediately bringing it to his lips.

 

_You both agreed this was the only way he could get it in time._

 

John slammed down the empty glass, eyes still watching Sherlock’s every move, disregarding the barman’s worried glance as he pushed the change towards him and asked for one more.

 

_You’re not allowed to be angry about this, you promised._

 

John looked away again, Sherlock was touching _that woman’s_ arm and she was laughing at whatever flirtatious joke he had just spoken over the top of his wine glass. They were just down the bar from John, nobody else in between them at present, and John was _supposed_ to be keeping an eye out in case any undesirable people connected to their suspect came in, but so far he had barely taken his eyes off Sherlock. The suspect Sherlock was “interrogating”had her back to John and that was probably the only reason he hadn’t been caught out staring; John was hardly hiding his jealousy. Sherlock hadn’t looked at him once since this started and that just served to make John angrier.

 

_Breathe, John._

 

John sighed, nursing his last beer as he tried his best to do the job he had been assigned to do, searching for anyone else who might be paying Sherlock and _that woman_ a little too much attention. He gave a quick sweep of the room but inevitably ended up staring at Sherlock again, biting the inside of his cheek as he saw them both laughing heartily. He just knew he was going to do damage to himself if he didn’t get a lid on his jealousy soon.

 

Sherlock glanced up at John as the suspect ordered another round of drinks, catching John in full glare mode before he had a chance to look away, making John flush with shame at being caught out.

 

_Shit. He knows you’re not doing what you’re supposed to be, knows you’ve barely taken your eyes off him the entire time…_

 

John looked down at his shoes, feeling guilty for the anger he felt. He should trust Sherlock enough to know this was just a show for information, and he damn well knew there was no way his lover would run off with someone else, especially a woman. Jealousy was a colour John wore too easily and he tried to muster up his most apologetic look, only to look up and see something that almost made him grip his pint glass hard enough to smash it.

 

Sherlock was leaning right in, lips pressed close to _that woman’s_ skin as he whispered in her ear. His hand was on her thigh, most certainly sealing a deal of some unscrupulous nature, while his eyes were locked with John’s, and a sinful smile curled his lips, flaring John’s anger. John was barely able to restrain himself.

_Oh the bastard’s doing it on purpose now._

 

John glared at him. Not the kind of glare that he gave him when he was woken up at four in the morning by Sherlock languidly scratching on his violin stings. No, that was too kind. It was the kind of glare he gave him when Sherlock’s _infallible_ plan had almost gotten them killed. Twice.

 

Sherlock simply lowered his gaze away from John’s intense stare, that smirk still on his lips as he turned his attention back to the suspect. John was about ready to come over there and pull Sherlock forcibly away from her, to hell with the case. Sherlock was now _trying_ to make him jealous, and John was not going to put up with that.

 

Something in Sherlock’s demeanour changed when the suspect leant in to return the favour of the hand on the thigh and the whispered words in his ear. John read the look in Sherlock’s eye and determined he had finally gotten the information he needed, not bothering to wait for Sherlock to make up his excuse to leave. He simply downed the last dregs of his beer before he stood up and marched right over to him, not saying anything as he grabbed Sherlock by the collar and pulled him off his seat. Sherlock threw some excuse at the suspect that halted her attempt at stopping John, the woman shooting him a confused glance but sitting back down in her chair all the same.

 

Once outside in the brisk, cool air, John dragged Sherlock into the alleyway beside the pub and shoved him bodily against the bricks, hands twisted in his lapels as he glared up at him.

 

‘You think it’s fun to wind me up?’ John snapped, pulling Sherlock away from the wall purely so he could shove him back against it. ‘Think it’s a game, do you?’

 

Sherlock put on an innocent face. ‘Whatever do you mean?’ he asked. ‘I was merely gathering intelligence.’

 

‘Yes, I’m _sure_ that’s what you were doing,’ John seethed through gritted teeth. ‘Have you sent the information to Lestrade so he can make the arrests?’

 

‘Yes, I…’

 

John cut him off mid-smirk in a way Sherlock obviously hadn’t quite been expecting, the detective’s head bouncing off the alley wall as John jumped up on to the balls of his feet to force his lips onto Sherlock’s. It was an angry kiss, John’s teeth gnashing at Sherlock’s lips with the desire to remind him exactly who he belonged to and in no way meant to arouse. That didn’t mean that it didn’t. John felt Sherlock surrender to the kiss and let out a small moan as the doctor became more forceful, the possessiveness in John growing.

 

‘You’re such a fucking twat,’ John growled, falling back down onto flat feet, dragging Sherlock down with him by his shirt collar, keeping them eye to eye. ‘Why’d you have to put your hand on her thigh? You’re only allowed to touch _me_ like that.’ He yanked Sherlock’s head towards him by his hair, forcing the man to stoop further as he attacked him with another vicious kiss, biting his way down to Sherlock’s throat.

 

‘You smell like her perfume,’ John fumed, biting Sherlock’s neck as though that would get rid of the floral scent masking his usual musk. ‘You’re not allowed to smell of anyone but _me_!’ with that he ripped Sherlock’s suit jacket and shirt wide open, popping off every single button to expose his flesh to the cool night air and John’s merciless tongue. He rubbed himself against Sherlock’s skin, overriding the floral perfume and putting his scent all over his lover, marking his territory. Sherlock had no complaints to give, moaning as John caught his sensitive nipples against the coarseness of that cuddly jumper.

 

‘Such a… fucking tosser.’ John was just growling insults for the hell of it now, tearing Sherlock’s jacket off and flinging it, all £500 worth, onto the disgusting alley floor. Sherlock shirt was next and John didn’t bother to undo his cuffs, trapping Sherlock’s hands behind his back. As Sherlock struggled to free himself, John set about marking his skin, sucking love bites as high up Sherlock’s neck as he could make them before the squirming detective started to annoy him. John flattened Sherlock back up against the wall, not caring where his hands were uncomfortably trapped as he glared up at him once more.

 

‘What were you whispering in her ear, Sherlock?’ John asked, words biting with jealousy. ‘Did you tell her you were going to fuck her?’ Sherlock gasped as John pinched a nipple roughly, not giving him a chance to answer clearly.

 

‘It’s just for a case, John,’ Sherlock cried out, hips bucking forward involuntarily and making him moan at the friction he found against John’s leg.

 

John moved his hands to Sherlock’s hips so he couldn’t do it again, stretching up to growl in Sherlock’s ear again before biting it. ‘That’s not what I asked!’ Sherlock yelped, his own fingers freeing themselves from his shirt and scrambling for a hold on John’s arms, hips desperately fighting against the force that was holding them back. ‘Did. You. Tell. Her. You were going to _fuck_ her?’ John asked again, forcing his own hips against Sherlock’s harshly with each syllable.

 

‘Yes,’ Sherlock admitted shakily, his grip on John’s arms increasing. ‘I told her I-I didn’t live that far away and th-that I’d love to spread her out on my bed.’

 

John’s possessive jealousy hit a new high and his rage could no longer be contained within that cuddly jumper.

 

‘ _Why_ would you offer to do that, Sherlock?’ he spat, pressing his nails hard enough through Sherlock’s trousers to leave bruises on his hips.

 

‘I didn’t mean it, John! It’s just for the case!’ Sherlock protested, but John was not listening.

 

‘Am I going to have to fuck you to remind you who you belong to? Because you _cannot_ just offer yourself out like that!’

 

John spun Sherlock around, pressing him harshly against the bricks. Sherlock’s bare chest scraped against the coarse wall while John made quick work of his trousers, undoing his belt and ripping open the plackets. ‘You didn’t wear any underwear,’ John stated, teeth bared. ‘You let her touch your _thigh_ and you _weren’t_ wearing any underwear?’ John growled, anger rising anew. _That woman_ had had her hands that close to his lover’s cock with very little in between and John was _furious_. ‘This… is… _mine_ ,’ John seethed, accentuating each word with a stroke down his lover’s shaft. ‘If you ever let anyone else touch your cock…’

 

‘I won’t,’ Sherlock choked, pushing forward into that hand. ‘Oh god, John, I swear. I will only ever let you touch me.’

 

‘Good.’ That was all John needed before he was shoving Sherlock’s trousers down his thighs, exposing him again rather abruptly to the cold night air. Sherlock was already trying to spread his legs but the material of his stupidly tight trousers was stopping him. John didn’t help him with them, quite liking the idea of restricting Sherlock’s movement like this. He reached into his own trousers and gave himself a stroke, finding that he had leaked a considerable amount of pre-cum and he used that to slick his cock before pulling himself free and grabbing Sherlock roughly by the hips. He fixed the height difference by bending Sherlock forward slightly, chest still pressed firmly against the wall but his arse and legs back a bit, his back curved to bring them level and his fingers curling into any nook in the bricks hoping for a purchase.

 

‘You are _mine_ ,’ John growled one last time, yanking Sherlock’s head back by his hair to make sure he got the message. ‘Offer yourself to someone else again and trust me you will feel the consequences.’ He let go and pried Sherlock’s arsecheeks apart, roughly thrusting forward until there was no space between his hips and Sherlock’s arse.

 

Sherlock slapped his hand to his mouth, muffling his would be scream and stopping any other pitiful sound from escaping past his lips. ‘Oh no you fucking don’t,’ John said, tearing Sherlock’s hand away. ‘I want to hear you acknowledging the fact that you. Are. _Mine._ ’ Each of the last three words were accentuated with a particularly rough thrust, pulling a different sound from Sherlock each time. John let go of his arm to bring his hands back to those slim hips, Sherlock slamming his fist against the wall as John really ground into him, trying to open him up before abandoning the task and returning to thrusting.

 

Sherlock was cursing and writhing under his torture, hands reaching up behind him to thread his fingers through John’s hair, pulling him closer. ‘I… I think you need to claim your property some more,’ Sherlock panted, tilting his head to the side to allow John access to his neck. John gladly obliged, sucking crude love bites along his lover’s easily marked skin, drawing the most delicious sounds out of him. ‘To think you would let someone else see you like this,’ John growled, suddenly slamming forward to show his disapproval. Sherlock shook his head, gasping for breath as one of John’s hands slipped down to curl around his cock. ‘Only for you,’ Sherlock promised and John rewarded him with an angle shift, hitting Sherlock's prostate and making the man let out an almighty moan.

 

‘Damn straight.’ John was on the home stretch now, pressing his forehead against Sherlock’s sweaty back so he could look down and watch his cock slip between those cheeks. The hand not wrapped around Sherlock’s cock slid down off his hip to slip his thumb between his cheeks to try and open him up further, Sherlock hissing at the touch of the nail biting into his sensitive flesh.

 

Playing a bit upon Sherlock’s pain kink, John bit him again, really going at it hard and pumping Sherlock’s cock in time with his thrusts. Sherlock came undone, throwing his head back and twisting his fingers tighter into John’s hair as he came in thick ropes over John’s hand.

 

‘Oh god, _John!_ ’

 

‘Mine,’ John panted, thrusting in as deep as he could, getting as close to Sherlock as he could, making his claim to the beautiful body beneath his hands, desperate for Sherlock to know nothing but him in this moment. ‘ _Mine_.’

 

‘Yours,’ Sherlock agreed, turning his head to offer John a kiss and it was John’s turn to fall apart, crying out with a low moan. He gave a few more thrusts through his orgasm, slowing to a stop and taking a much needed moment to catch his breath and enjoy the warmth of his lover’s lightly shaking body before pulling out.

 

John stopped for a moment to collect himself, tucking himself back in and doing up his fly, eyes shifting to the debauched mess heaving against the wall that was his lover, and feeling a twinge of embarrassment at just how far he had taken his jealousy.

 

‘Um…’ John started, voice a little uncertain. ‘We’re all clear on that then?’

 

Sherlock opened his eyes and smirked at him, still panting a little for breath. ‘Oh, I think you made your point quite clear.’

 

‘I didn’t mean to be so… I… sorry… thank you?’ John was blushing furiously by now, running his hands down his face and once again ignoring the fact that they were shaking. ‘Um…’

 

He frowned down at Sherlock’s suit jacket, as if it was its own fault it had ended up in a puddle before carefully picking it up by the collar and trying his best to wipe off the dirt. Sherlock had turned around and was using the wall for support as he struggled to pull his trousers up his sweat slickened thighs, smirking all the while he did up his belt. John finally caught on.

 

‘That… you did that on purpose, didn’t y– Oh Jesus,’ John closed his eyes, this sudden realization not helping with the way his face was fast looking like a tomato. ‘I said that I would never fuck you in a public place… For fuck’s sake, Sherlock, that wasn’t a challenge!’

 

‘I proved you wrong all the same.’ Sherlock smirked, pulling on his shirt and doing his best to do it up which was no mean feat considering John had torn all but one button off in the haste of removing that garment.

 

‘Was there even a case?’ John asked, gritting his teeth against Sherlock’s cocky attitude.

 

‘Of course, John,’ Sherlock said sincerely before adding, ‘It’s just I may have lied when I said there was no other way of getting the information.’ John threw Sherlock’s jacket at the smarmy git’s head, hitting him right in the face and hoping the whip of the material hurt his brick burnt cheek.

 

‘I love you, too,’ Sherlock teased.

 

As rare as it was for Sherlock to admit his love (and apparently only in alleys after a bout of jealous sex), John was not falling for Sherlock’s honey trap. ‘Piss off.’

 

‘I should, shouldn’t I? She will be wondering where I am by now, I did promise to take her home after all.’ Sherlock sauntered out of the alleyway after that, leaving John to glare after him

 

‘Right,’ John said to himself, frowning deeply as he rolled up his sleeves. If Sherlock was going to play this game then John would just have to make sure everyone in that pub knew damned well who the lanky git belonged to.

 


End file.
